


In My Dreams- Excerpt from Drunk Girl

by Skippyjo94



Series: Drunk Girl [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Crying, Dancing, Dream Sex, Dreams, F/M, Grinding, Guilt, Making Out, No Sex, Second Chances, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-22 19:30:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18534016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skippyjo94/pseuds/Skippyjo94
Summary: Peter and MJ had some sort of falling out, that Peter still isn't sure about, and drifted apart. Not in college, they find each other again at a bar. This is the outcome.Peter dreams about MJ. And it's good. Until it isn't...An excerpt from another story of mine, Drunk Girl. Can stand alone.





	In My Dreams- Excerpt from Drunk Girl

**Author's Note:**

> So this is an excerpt from a different story, Drunk Girl, that I wrote. I posted it as a chapter in the story last night but the more I think about it the more I want to see it as a stand alone piece as well cause it really doesn't have to follow the story. There's enough expiration in it to cover any really necessary information from the main story.
> 
> So here it is. Sorry if you already read it in my main story. Hope anyone who reads it enjoys!

Peter looked out onto the dance floor.  There she was. Black dress, curls piled up on her head neatly, but starting to fall out in places.  It gave her a look of being tamed, but just barely.

 

A wild animal that had let people close, but only because they were beneath it’s notice.

 

She had a slight smile on her face, like she didn’t even know it was there.  Her eyes were closed and she was swaying gently to the music.

 

Not like all the other people on the dance floor.  She wasn’t dancing to an audience. The other girls were all swinging their hips, moving in unnatural or uncomfortable ways hoping to entice a partner into joining them.

 

She didn’t need to try to look sexy.  She was letting the music move her, like the notes were pushing and pulling her limbs, like it had taken over her every conscious thought.

 

There was nothing complicated or overstated about her movements.  Just effortless movements in perfect time with the beat, a beautiful complement to the music itself.

 

Peter felt himself moving closer.  He had no conscious control over his body, was just being drawn in like she was a magnet.  The moth to her flame.

 

As he drew nearer, her face changed.  Her smile became more pronounced, like she knew he was close and the idea pleased her.  Her eyes crinkled shut tighter at the corners as the upturned edges of her lips lifted her cheeks.

 

Peter finally reached her, not remembering the process of getting there, and reached out a hand to place on her face.  His thumb stroked over her cheekbone gently. She leaned into his hand, nuzzling into his palm, an image of a cat coming to mind as he gazed at her intensely.

 

Her smile turned soft again as his hand traced down her cheek, thumb lightly brushing over her lips.  They followed it as it drew back over her chin, to the side of her neck, almost like an ill timed kiss, him a moment too early, her a second too late.

 

His fingers trailed back over to cup just under her ear for a moment, then continued down her neck.  He watched, almost as if it wasn’t his hand as it traced over her shoulder and then down the backside of her arm, drawing it to him before finally reaching her hand.

 

His right hand brought her left up, bringing her closer before depositing on his shoulder.  He lowered his hand, running his fingers down her back then wrapped his arm around her waist.

 

At the same time, his other hand grabbed her right hand, holding it close to his chest.  The music changed seamlessly from the light dance tune to a deeper, more sensual melody.

 

His arms pull her closer of their own accord, pressing them full body together, his right arm spanning her slim waist, starting on her left, his hand reaching to cup her right hip.  

 

The embrace was possibly the most intimate thing he had experienced.  Any other time he would feel uncomfortable, out of his depths, his awkwardness surfacing to ruin the moment.

 

Now, though, in this moment, with this girl, everything was natural.  Where he placed his hands, the gentle stroke of his fingers over her hip bone, his thumb over her knuckles, alternating.

 

Her hand had moved from resting on his shoulder to the back of his neck, fingers occasionally playing with the hairs at the base.  Her head was tucked into his neck, like there was no place else that would make sense for it to be.

 

In his mind, that made perfect sense.  It was exactly how he was feeling himself.

 

_Let’s get you home._  He had whispered in her ear as the song drew to it’s close.  She had nodded against his neck and pressed just the slightest bit closer.

 

The song ended and Peter steered her towards the door. Outside was a breath of fresh air, a chill seeping into the wind, but just barely.  They found a cab and were inside, sitting pressed tightly together, facing each other before Peter could blink.

 

He didn’t register giving the driver an address and then he was too distracted to think anymore.  Her hand, which had started on his neck, had travelled lightly down his chest, feathering over his wiry, toned physique.  When her fingers stopped, they had made their way down to his hip, catching softly on his belt, like a barely there barrier preventing her from exploring any further.

 

The natural next thing to do, the only thing he could think to do, was reach for her.  His palm found her face, for the second time, but this time he used it to draw her to him.  He paused with their faces nearly touching, savoring the moment.

 

MJ must have leaned in the rest of the way because suddenly, their lips were connected.  Soft, sweet, just a touch of alcohol remaining between them. The kiss was comfortable for a moment.

 

Then all of a sudden, sparks, everywhere.  Every point of contact between them. Thighs pressed together from knee to hip, her leg crossed behind his, shin rubbing calf, his hand, no longer on her face, but holding the gentle curve of her waist, her hands, both gripping at the bottom of his shirt, and their lips.

 

Oh, their lips.

 

Heat; soft, wet, fire.  His tongue had flicked out to trace her lip, and she had welcomed the touch, lips parting in a sigh, and angling her head to give both of them better access.  The way she leaned further into his body heat, chest against chest now sent a thrill up Peter’s spine.

 

What had been one long, drawn out kiss quickly dissolved into two, then three, then too many to count had either been inclined to try at the moment.

 

Neither had any desire to do anything but this.

 

Peter was leaning over her, one hand still on her waist, other hand supporting his weight on the other side of the seat.  The position had him crossing her body with his, meaning more points of contact, not that either would complain.

 

Before he can register what has happened, they are out of the cab, standing on the sidewalk, presumably where they had been dropped off.  They were still connected (or connected again?) with his arm wrapped like a vice around her waist, and the other up her back, holding her as close to him as possible.

 

Where his hand was on her back, he could feel her skin.  Open backed dresses were a wonderful creation in his (less than) expert opinion.

 

His fingers took in as much of her skin as possible.  She pressed further into him. As if it were possible for there to be less space between them.

 

Their kissing, already heated in the cab, had exploded once they were outside of it.  The next thing he knows, they are up the stairs, his one hand pressed against the wall with MJ between his body and the door to her apartment.

 

She got the keys out of her bag and he took them from her without a word.  Never breaking from their embrace, he got the key into the keyhole and turned the knob.  They stumbled inside as a pair, still too strongly latched onto each other to even fall separately.

 

Regaining their balance quickly, his abilities aiding him in the recovery, Peter quickly shut and locked the door.  As he did, he swung MJ back between himself and the door, this time from inside the apartment. Tossing the keys on the counter closest to the door, he set his hands to more useful tasks.

 

Her hands were slipping under his shirt to feel the toned muscle, slight but defined abdominal muscles, up to his pecs, then trailing back down again.  His hands started at her hips then dragged up her waist to her ribs, feeling the vague shape of each through her dress and skin beneath.

 

Following around to her back, he found again the open back of her dress.  The skin there was so easily accessible, he couldn’t help it, his hands were just drawn to those patches where she was exposed to him.

 

He moved his mouth down to a spot on her neck, just under her jaw that had been calling to him for some time now.  One of her hands came out from stroking over his skin under his shirt to grasp lightly at his hair, seeming to want to keep him there.

 

That must be a good sign.

 

Peter was far from experienced with these things, but he could at least tell that she was as into this as he was.  The way they moved against each other, having been pressed together as closely as they had been, left little question how interested he was in what they were doing.

 

He was hard against her, short movements sending fire shooting up his veins.  The way she moved with him, he knew he wasn’t the only one benefitting from the arrangement.  His legs straddling one of hers, hers straddling one of his, they rocked together against the door.

 

Movements like horny teenagers, they should maybe be ashamed.  Neither had the brainpower or the willpower to even attempt to stop.  Peter did eventually pull MJ away from the door, glancing around for her bedroom.

 

Only two doors in the apartment, he spotted a bed through one of the doors, meaning the other must be the bathroom.  Scooping her up, she wrapped her legs around his hips, arms around his neck, and let herself be whisked away to the bedroom.

 

Shutting her door quickly with a kick of his foot, he deposited MJ on the bed gently before stripping off his shirt.  He returned to her, not losing any momentum they had built up together in the other room.

 

He worked on undoing her dress, pulling it down and away from her body.  He stopped to look at her momentarily before sealing his lips to her neck again.  Underneath her dress she was wearing only a pair of silky black underwear, nothing too showy, but sleek and sexy.

 

He made a mental note to come back to this part, the part where he showed her body all the attention it deserved, another time.  Preferably when he no longer felt like he was going to burst with anticipation.

 

She reached to undo the belt secured at his hips, as he made his way, down her neck, nearly to her shoulder, then covered her collarbone in gentle nips, and working his way back up the other side.  She squirmed a bit against him, breathy sounds ringing in his ears, cranking his own arousal up several more notches.

 

She succeeded in getting his belt undone, as well as poppin the button on his jeans and had started pulling the down.  His underwear seemed to be in agreement with the plans for the evening and were going right along with the jeans, speeding the whole process up.

 

There was some minor difficulty with getting them all the way off, catching on where he was hard and straining to reach her.  Eventually they got him worked free from the confining material and the coolness of the air was a welcome change from the stifling feeling of too-tight his pants had become.

 

Getting her stripped the rest of the way was simple.  Pulling her legs up to lay on his chest where he knelt above her, she raised her hips as he pulled quickly on the waistband, sliding them over her curves, and tauntingly drawing them up her long, smooth legs, skin softer tha Peter could have imagined.

 

He lowered her legs back to the bed and bent back over her to kiss her again.  He slotted himself properly between her thighs, the feeling slightly powerful but overall just right in his mind.  He had never felt more at home than these moments they’ve shared, the intimacy, the vulnerability, and all of it because it was her.

 

It could never have been this way with anyone else, he was sure of it.

 

He moved his lips from hers, intending to move back to her neck and ear to draw more of those delicious reactions from her when he tasted it.  His lips picked up on a vague saltiness as he kissed her cheek.

 

Tears.

 

Shocked, he looked up at her.  No longer was her face a mixture of happiness and arousal, but instead, devoid of anything but sadness.

 

Peter pulled away as if he’d been bitten.  Suddenly he was back on the dance floor with her, tears streaming down her face.  In the cab, her red rimmed eyes staring deeply into his. Outside the door to her apartment, her hand shaking struggling to find her keys through the tears accumulating in her eyes.

 

Horror shown clearly on his face as he practically threw himself to the side to get away from her.  He backed away, nearly falling from the bed in his haste.

 

Somehow the look on her face had morphed into something else while the evening replayed in his mind.  The look caused guilt and shame to clench in his stomach: it was accusing.

 

_I needed you, Pete._  Her lips didn’t move, but he had heard her voice clear as day.    _I was your best friend and I needed you._ There it was again.  She wasn’t speaking, how could he hear her voice if she wasn’t speaking.

 

Suddenly, it wasn’t just MJ on her bed in front of him.  An image of her from out on the dance floor, one of her in the cab, one of her in front of her door, and even one of her from the last time he remembered speaking to her in high school, all surrounding him, all saying the same things.

 

_You should have been there for me Peter._

 

_We were meant to be Peter, and you let me down._

 

_You just forgot about me and I needed you._

 

_You were too busy as Spiderman, saving everyone else, that you just let me slip through the cracks._

 

_How could you?_

 

The last one,  _How could you?_ echoed in his mind, over and over again.    _How could you?  How could you? How could you?How could you?How could you How could you How could youHowcouldyouHowcouldyou-_

 

Peter shot bolt upright in his bed, breathing shallow and too fast, damn near hyperventilating, sweat making his sleep clothes (cutoff and boxers) cling to his skin uncomfortably, his bedding damp to the touch.  He looked around his room in a panic, trying to get his bearings back. He had to wrap his mind around what had just happened.

 

It was the same dream he had been having, over and over since that first night he saw MJ again.  The same dream he has had at least four times in the last week.

 

It’s not always the same, sometimes it starts back when they were in high school, sometimes it picks up after that night.  But they all have the same outcome. MJ reminding him exactly how much of a failure he felt like when it came to their friendship.

 

The not knowing had always been a source of grief for him.  He managed to bury it under irritation at her, frustration for the whole situation, whatever it was.  But recently, it had become an almost overwhelming source of guilt.

 

He had just let her slip through the cracks.  He had thought, perhaps naively that things would just sort themselves out with time.

 

Clearly he was wrong.

 

Now, years later, life or fate or the universe, whatever was in charge of these things, seemed to be giving him another chance.  And, if these dreams were anything to go by, he wouldn’t be making that same mistake twice.

 

He got up, changed into a fresh sleep clothes, and went to the living room.  He found a blanket and pillow on the couch, and laid down to try to sleep a few more hours, or at least rest while some nonsense tv program played in the background.

 

The last thing he did before rolling over and trying to go back to sleep, was to look at his phone.  He decided to respond to the message he had gotten earlier in the evening.

 

They had messaged back and forth throughout the week, nothing major, just some light catching up, talking about their days, etc.  Around 11 pm this past evening, he had gotten a message asking to meet for lunch the next day, a Saturday.

 

Peter had been caught off guard by it initially and decided he would deal with it in the morning.

 

Now though, he didn’t even make the conscious decision to respond.  He just knew he had to.

 

_Would it be totally crossing a line if I asked to see you tomorrow?  We could maybe do lunch, if you’re free that is?_

 

_Absolutely, lunch.  For you, I’m always free :)_

 

No, if he was getting a second chance, he would definitely NOT be making the same mistake twice.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to anyone who made it through! How you enjoyed it! Comments and constructive criticism always welcome!


End file.
